A fluffy, amazing companion | Home Again

By Joanne Peterson | Aug 09, 2018

I’ve enjoyed the company of cats since I was 7 years old and moved with my family to Edmonds. I do not recall how we acquired our big tabby cat Butch – or who named him. I have a hunch he simply appeared on the back porch of our house at Fourth and Dayton and indicated that he’d be staying.

Well, there was the one time he took off without leaving a forwarding address and returned six months later with no plausible explanation for his absence. Otherwise, he was quite the homebody.

Butch became a great companion to me, and demonstrated patience far beyond what his tough exterior signaled. He was a big cat, but I managed to lug him around the house wherever I wanted to take him. Sometimes I collected him from whichever napping spot he occupied at the moment, carried him to the living room and set about dressing him in doll clothes.

Did he enjoy that? I doubt it, but he never protested.

Anyway, Butch was my first cat, and he showed me that a cat can be a great companion. Since then, I’ve owned – or been owned by – many cats. I’ve loved every one of them and have taken full advantage of what I think of as their affectionate fur therapy. Yes, there’s the streak of independence that cats exhibit; I’ve always admired that. I love dogs, but sometimes it’s easier to own a cat, and a good cat brings warmth and welcome into a home.

I wrote many columns about my sweet orange cat Benjamin – his quirky personality, his devotion to me. I brought him with me when I returned to Edmonds after many years away. Benjamin was the dearest and best cat anyone could ask for; we spent over 15 years together, and when he died, he left an enormous void in my life. I

It just didn’t feel right to bring another cat into my home during the long time that I grieved for him.

Now? Now I enjoy the companionship of a gorgeous 9-year-old Siamese cat, a female named Mocha, who came into my life in a different way than Benjamin, whom I adopted at the Humane Society after his uncommonly rough start in life.

Mocha, as I understand her story, came from a happy home with an older woman who needed to move from that home and, for whatever reason, couldn’t take Mocha with her. I don’t know the rest of the story, but I would think that woman’s heart must have broken when she gave up this amazing animal.

My daughter knew of the situation, and I am so thankful to her for facilitating Mocha’s transition into my life.

Mocha is dark brown with pale trim and blue eyes. She is perfectly beautiful, but it is her intelligence and sweet personality that make her the ideal pet. Affectionate, happy, playful – she’s an amazing companion.

And if she feels like playing, and I’m busy, she goes to her toy basket, selects two or three toys and, by herself, plays wildly, leaping and bounding, throwing her toys high in the air or hiding under the coffee table while she plans an attack on a dangerous, green-felt mouse.

She’s a kitten at heart, and she’s won my heart. I am healthier and happier because this lovely creature lives in my home, in my life.

After hundreds of “Home Again” columns, I still feel privileged – and amazed – that my words show up in the Edmonds Beacon every other week, and that local residents read those words. It feels good to hit “send” and know that I’ve completed another column, and it is on its way to my editor.

“Home Again” is based on memories, hopes, regrets, gratitude, interests and my observations of the town and residents of Edmonds. After being away for many years, I came home again, knowing myself better than I used to, knowing other people better, too.

I know that kindness wins the day, generosity is noble, and letting somebody go ahead of you in line at the market will make you feel good.

I know that acting petty, resentful or mean-spirited is like taking poison and hoping the other guy dies.

As long as little kids fly kites on the beach, my high school classmates meet monthly for lunch, the Dogs of Edmonds greet me on my walks, the holidays overwhelm hearts with joy and sorrow, and grandparents envision their own grandchildren when they read about mine, I won’t run out of topics, serious or light-hearted.

As a columnist, clearly, I can write about almost anything I want. I like to write about something people already know or feel but perhaps haven’t thought about lately. I like to show people the ordinary, leading them to recognize that the ordinary deserves status equal to the spectacular.

I want to remind readers that they’d better grab whatever opportunity comes along today, because today is what there is, and I want them to believe that they have more inner strength than ever they could imagine.

For me, the point of being a columnist is to get people to feel something—to question, relate, imagine or remember. Writing “Home Again” every other week for The Beacon offers me that opportunity.